


song of healing

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Majora's Mask Fusion, Alternate Universe - Video Game Fusion, Apocalypse, M/M, impending doom, time paradox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moon is going to fall in three days, and Grantaire decides that it's time to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	song of healing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a completely self-indulgent thing I wanted to write. This fic should make sense even if you haven't played Majora's Mask (thank you [pie](http://piecrmbs.tumblr.com/) for reading through to check for me), but you'll probably get more out of it if you have.
> 
> I wouldn't have finished this without [jaye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross)'s encouragement either, so thank you <3

When Grantaire wakes up, the moon is suddenly a lot closer than he remembers it being the previous night. He blinks, rubbing his eyes blearily. He doesn't want to be awake just yet but he's never been able to shake off his habit of waking to the cucco's crow, regardless of how much he's had to drink beforehand. Right now, he wonders if maybe the alcohol in his system is responsible for the fact that the moon is suddenly a lot bigger than it should be. The markings that make up its face look eerie from this close, much more sinister than when it had been nothing but a faint, glowing suggestion in the distance. 

Grantaire is in Ikana. It's quiet and old, a place that bleeds secrets of its near-forgotten past if you scratch at its surface hard enough. It's a good place to be alone, a good place to paint, and a good place to drink. Somehow, there seems to be a sudden shift in the atmosphere around him, as if the melancholia of the forgotten kingdom has been replaced by something much more sinister. He looks at the still valley around him, and then turns his gaze back to the moon. It hangs heavy in the sky, like it's about to fall, just above Clocktown.

With a heavy sigh, Grantaire pushes his heavy blanket off and goes about packing his rucksack. He leaves his canvas with the half-finished painting of Stone Tower leaning against a boulder. He wasn't really getting anywhere with it anyway.

It's been a good two years since he'd left home. Two years of wandering and working wherever he could find a paid job. His only contact with the town has been the times he'd wrap finished paintings and send them to Courfeyrac. The old postman had retired not long after Grantaire left, and had been replaced by Feuilly. Sometimes, Feuilly has the time to sit down for a drink and chat, and sometimes he doesn't. Either way, he gets the paintings to Courfeyrac, to sell in his Curiosity Shop, and tends to be good at tracking Grantaire down to give him his money when one of them gets sold. He doesn't know who buys them and Courfeyrac won't say, but Grantaire supposes that it doesn't matter. Extra money means more to drink, more money to throw at his vice of the week. Whatever keeps him going.

He stares at the moon, stares at the clocktower he can see over the walls of the town, and runs a hand through his hair. He digs through his bag's several pockets until he finds his pipe. It's going to be a long walk home and he's going to need to smoke, for the journey as much as the destination.

«·»

They call it a lot of things; the apocalypse, the end of days, their final hours. The moon is going to crash into the town at the precise time that the Carnival of Time is set to begin.

Enjolras calls it a _headache_. He's been busy since nine o'clock taking care of all of the paperwork in the mayor's office while Valjean deals with concerned citizens, entertainers cancelling their acts for the Carnival, and the clear split between the town, between those who believe that fleeing is their best option, and those who refuse to believe that the moon will even fall. Captain Javert, head of the town's guard, is fiercely arguing that the town should be preparing to evacuate, instead of for the Carnival. Only Valjean manages to restrain him and even then, it's a struggle. Enjolras shuts the door to his office in an effort to block out the sounds of them arguing, and busies himself with his work. 

He's heard some people calling it the First Day and he likes that better than any of the other options. If they really do have three days to live, he doesn't want to count down to it hour-by-hour. If the moon doesn't fall after all, Enjolras doesn't want to have wasted these three days and he certainly doesn't want to be responsible for a poorly-planned Carnival, not when he'd fought so hard for this position as Valjean's assistant in the first place. He knows that Valjean is a just and fair mayor, and Clocktown has made quite a few improvements since he'd been elected. Enjolras is determined for this to continue and he'd very much prefer that the moon stay in the sky, though he suspects that he may not have a choice in the matter.

He works until he can no longer hear the arguing outside of his door and continues working, not looking at the clock until there's a quiet knock at his door. 

"I'm nearly done proof-reading our tourist booklet, and I'm halfway through the first draft of your speech," Enjolras calls out but when the door opens, it's not Valjean. "Oh, hello Combeferre."

"I have to say, it _is_ somewhat cheering to see that not even our impending doom has made you any less of a workaholic. It's lunch time."

" _Someone_ needs to get some work done amidst all the panic," Enjolras mutters. "Speaking of, since when have you had the time for a lunch break?"

"Something about having three days to live," Combeferre replies. "Apparently nobody wants to go and see the town doctor when they're all going to be crushed by the moon in three days anyway."

"Sorry to hear it," Enjolras says, putting his work down. "Though if you ask me, you could definitely do with a quiet day."

"Looks like you could as well." Combeferre lowers his voice when he adds, "Or at the very least, an extended lunch break. I mostly came by to let you know that Grantaire's come home. He got into town a few hours ago. Courfeyrac said he dropped by the Curiosity Shop, but he doesn't know where Grantaire is now."

For a moment, Enjolras doesn't know what to say. Then he gets up and pushes his chair in. He grabs a folder and and puts some of his paperwork into it, then picks up his lunch box.

"I'm going on my lunch break," he says to Valjean on his way out. "I might try and do some work outside while I'm at it, if that's alright with you."

Valjean's gaze flicks to Combeferre and he frowns slightly. Enjolras supposes he can't really blame him; his lunch breaks are usually spent eating as quickly as he can while he continues to work. "Of course, that's absolutely fine. The only reason we haven't been swamped by incomplete Carnival arrangements is because you've been taking care of everything today. Take as long as you need."

"I'll leave you to it, then," Combeferre tells him as they both walk out of the mayor's office. "I'll talk to you after work."

Enjolras nods, grateful that it's not a question. He knows that no matter what happens, he's going to need to sit down with Combeferre later and sort his thoughts out. He needs it _now_ , but there are more important matters at hand.

The Milk Bar is closed, which means that there's one place that Grantaire is likely to be, if Enjolras knows him at all. It's been two years, and he's nowhere near as confident about his assessment as he might have been before but it's the only place he can think of, and it's worth a try.

He hasn't been to the Observatory in two long years, but he remembers the way without needing to think. He'd first put the Bombers together when he was a child, though they'd been called the Friends of the ABC then. Enjolras had gathered his friends together to do some good in the town and they'd declared the Observatory their official hideout. Several years have passed since then but some things never change, just as some memories never fade.

"Password," Gavroche says by way of greeting when Enjolras walks into sight. His grin tells Enjolras everything he needs to know.

"Just let me pass, Gavroche. This is important."

"Password," Gavroche repeats firmly. "We haven't changed it for years."

"Two-four-six-oh-one," Enjolras says with a sigh, nodding in thanks when Gavroche steps aside. "Stay out of trouble now, you hear? And… take a break from standing guard for a while."

"Sure." Gavroche salutes him and runs off. Enjolras waits until he's out of sight, then turns and walks the rest of the way to the Observatory.

«·»

The last time Grantaire had been here, he'd been fighting with Enjolras. He can close his eyes and feel like the last two years haven't passed at all. He remembers the shouting, the look in Enjolras' eyes that said he was growing tired of this, the desperate kisses that were never anything but bandaid solutions. He remembers deciding that he couldn't do this anymore, remembers when living with Enjolras had turned into hiding from him, disappearing off to the Observatory the way he had since he was a child and it had been his parents disappointed and angry with him, not his boyfriend.

The old astronomer is happy to see him, eager to hear about Grantaire's travels. He lets Grantaire look through the large telescope at the moon, and speaks of malicious spirits threatening to bring about the end of the world. 

"Do you think it will happen?" Grantaire asks, looking at the notes scattered across the desk, not even trying to make sense of them.

"I don't know, but judging from what you've said about Ikana…" the astronomer trails off and shrugs. "I can't say anything for certain. But you saw the moon, and decided to come home."

Grantaire sighs. "I guess so."

The astronomer places a hand on Grantaire's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I'm glad you did."

Grantaire nods, walking out of the Observatory. His favourite tree is still there and he rests his rucksack against it, sitting in its shade. The world may or may not be ending, but Grantaire is tired from the walk to town, and from catching up with people while carefully avoiding all mentions of Enjolras. He lies down, shutting his eyes and letting the exhaustion get to him.

When he wakes, it's sometime past midday and Enjolras is sitting on the grass beside him, eating a sandwich and reading through a thick pile of papers, making annotations as he goes. He puts them down when he realises that Grantaire is awake.

"Hello. You looked tired, and I didn't want to disturb you." Enjolras looks at him for a long, silent moment before finally saying, "It's good to see you again."

"Is it?" Grantaire had packed his bag and left without a word to Enjolras. He'd let everyone else know that he was going, even if he didn't tell them where. "I didn't think you would even want to see me."

"I don't know why you would think that," Enjolras says quietly, turning back to the papers in his lap. "Then again, I don't know why you thought I wanted you to leave."

Grantaire lies where he is, staring up at the tree's branches. This isn't a conversation he's ready to have just yet. Enjolras seems to understand, because he doesn't push. He continues to do his work as he eats. Eventually, Grantaire sits up and pulls his sketchbook out of his bag. He sketches the clocktower, and the moon in the sky just above it. He sketches the incomplete festival tower he'd walked past when he first came into town, and the builders working on it. He draws the astronomer in front of his telescope, and pauses when he realises Enjolras is watching him.

"Sorry." Enjolras shakes his head slightly. "It's just… been a while since I've watched you sketch. You've improved."

Even now, praise from Enjolras warms Grantaire to his core. He nods in thanks, with a small smile.

"What do you think about the moon falling?" Grantaire asks, looking at Enjolras. "Do you think it will? Because of this spirit in a mask?"

Enjolras frown as he shrugs. "I don't know what to think, Grantaire. I don't want to believe that we have, what, two and a half days left before _nothing_. I'm not happy with that."

Grantaire snorts quietly. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Did you hear about the kid running around town, trying to stop the end of the world?"

"I haven't heard about anything. I've been swamped with Mayor Valjean's work while he tries to keep the entire town from panicking." Enjolras sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know anything about spirits, evil or otherwise. The Giants that are said to protect us are just a myth. A tradition. I have a town to help run, and a Carnival to organise. Did you come back for Marius and Cosette's wedding?"

Grantaire came back because he'd seen the moon looming over the town and his first thought had been Enjolras. He keeps that to himself. "I came back because my feet brought me here. I'll be at the wedding, if any of us actually survive that long. It's still a couple of days away."

"Ad what will you do in that time?" Enjolras asks. "Where will you stay?"

Grantaire shrugs. "I'll see if Marius had any room for me at the Inn. Bunk with a circus troupe if I really have to. You don't need to worry, I'll stay out of your way."

"You _know_ it's your house too. We bought it together and that means at least half of it—"

"Enjolras, don't do this. I'll find a place. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," Enjolras snaps, gathering his papers back into their folder and standing up. He's frowning, but it's not the angry look that Grantaire is used to. "It's been two years, Grantaire, and when I heard you were back, I was _happy_. I missed you. I love you."

Grantaire blinks, confused. "You…"

"I have work to do," Enjolras mutters and at least _that_ is a familiar shut-down. He turns on his heel and walks away. "Welcome back."

«·»

"I'm an _idiot_ ," Enjolras mutters, pacing the room.

Combeferre makes a sympathetic sound from where he and Courfeyrac are sitting on the couch, watching him. 

He doesn't get the same from Courfeyrac, who only snorts. "Yeah, you are. Do you even know where Grantaire is right now?"

Enjolras stops pacing. There's something about Courfeyrac's tone that he doesn't quite like. "He said he would find a room at the Inn."

Courfeyrac shakes his head slowly. "Marius didn't have any space for him. He offered to put Grantaire up in his own room—and so did I, for that matter—but he left town, muttering something about helping Éponine and Azelma take care of the ranch. Apparently taking care of cucco chicks is hard work and they need an extra person to do it?"

Combeferre snorts quietly. "I miss the days when his excuses were at least _creative_."

"I miss the days when he didn't feel the need to make excuses at all," Enjolras says sharply, and both his friends look at him sadly. He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. "I'm lying to myself if I think there ever was such a time."

"Don't you worry," Courfeyrac tells him with a smile. "I sent Feuilly down to Southern Swamp with a message to let Bahorel and Jehan know that Grantaire came back to town and he's hiding at the ranch. They'll bring him back tomorrow."

"He won't be happy if he's brought back to town by force." Enjolras runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it. "He hasn't been home for two years and then he returns for a _day_ and leaves again. I fucked up. I must have. I keep fucking up and he keeps leaving—"

"Enjolras," Combeferre says firmly, rising to his feet and placing his hands on Enjolras' shoulders, holding him still. "Stop that, right now. This isn't your fault. Grantaire needs to sort himself out, just like you do. Blaming yourself for him leaving is going to help at all."

"I've just spent so long hoping that he would return," Enjolras says quietly. "I always thought he would stay for longer when he finally did."

"Well, he'll be back again tomorrow," Coufeyrac tells him. "Maybe give him a bit of space this time. He'll find you when he's ready. Trust me."

Enjolras nods, because there's nothing else he can do. It's all up to Grantaire, it always has been, and it speaks volumes of just how much Enjolras cares for him that he's even remotely okay with this fact.

The house feels empty once Combeferre and Courfeyrac leave in a way that it hasn't for a long time. Enjolras reads in bed until he falls asleep, his face pressed against the pillow he still thinks of as _Grantaire's_.

The dawn of the Second Day arrives with a cucco crow and Enjolras wakes in a bed that feels much too big. The moon is even closer now and the grimace on its face makes Enjolras shudder and turn away. It's raining as he walks to the mayor's office and all around him on the street, he can see that the citizens of the town are much more concerned than they were yesterday.

Javert is already in Valjean's office, insisting that they evacuate the entire town, using force if they have to. The door is open and Enjolras doesn't mean to eavesdrop as he walks past, but it's impossible to ignore them.

"It's not that simple, Javert. You cannot make people leave their homes if they do not wish to."

"If they stay, they will die." Javert gives Valjean a desperate look. "We must do something."

"I know that, and we will. Those who wish to stay may do so, and those who want to leave are equally welcome to do so. I will not presume to make choices on behalf of our citizens. Do you agree, Enjolras?"

Javert turns around, glaring at Enjolras on the other side of the doorway. Enjolras simply shrugs, walking past Valjean's door. "That sounds fair."

"And what are you going to do?" Javert asks him, following him out into the foyer, arms folded across his chest.

"The Carnival of Time needs to be organised," Enjolras replies. "The town must be kept running for those who wish to stay."

"Enjolras," Valjean says, alarmed. "I am not going to make you stay for the sake of others."

"I know that, but I cannot simply run and save myself if it means that others will die."

"Your presence or absence will not affect that," Javert tells him. "The least you can do is convince your friends to leave Clocktown and go somewhere safer, so that they will have the chance to survive. Although it seems that some of your friends don't even require your encouragement to leave town."

Enjolras' shoulders tense and it's a struggle not to scowl at Javert. They've had trouble getting along since Enjolras was a boy and wanted to make a difference in the town. Javert did not get along with Valjean for a long time either but while they have managed to overcome most of their differences, Enjolras is a different matter entirely.

"Javert, that was uncalled for," Valjean admonishes.

"I never thought that I would be suggesting this, but perhaps we would all be better off following that drunkard's example."

"If you want to leave, there is absolutely nobody stopping you," Enjolras snaps, rounding on Javert. "By all means, leave your underlings to guard the town while you escape to safety, you swine."

"That is not my intention!" Javert shouts. "You'd best remember that you are speaking to head guard of this town, and that you are already standing on shaky ground. The town guards will lead an orderly evacuation when the time comes. Those who wish to stay behind and be crushed by the moon can do so, and you have my full permission to join them."

"Please…" Valjean rubs a hand over his face, looking weary. "If the citizens overhear a shouted argument about evacuating from the mayor's office… well, personally, I do not want to deal with the ramifications of that. Javert, continue to organise this evacuation for tomorrow evening. Enjolras, please accept my apology on Javert's behalf.

As much Enjolras is loathe to do so, he gives them both a curt nod. "If you need me for the rest of the morning, I will be in my office."

«·»

"Okay, no, why are you forcing me to go back?" Grantaire asks, his hands in his pockets.

"Uh-huh, that's what we're doing." Bahorel gives him a sidelong look. "We mentioned we're going back to Clocktown, you swore at us, and came along. That's some real force, right there."

"I think it will be nice to have everyone together again," Jehan says with a smile. "It's been so long."

Grantaire's shoulders slump. "Sorry."

"Nobody is blaming you," Jehan assures him. "You needed to leave, and you did. It doesn't matter why. The important thing is that you weren't happy where you were, so you left."

"Pretty sure that only really counts if I was _happier_ after I left."

"You weren't?" Bahorel asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Grantaire laughs bitterly. "I spent every single day missing—missing home, but when I left the way I did, I had no right to go crawling back."

"You would have been welcome," Jehan tells him. "By everyone."

"But I don't think—"

" _Everyone_ ," Jehan repeats with a smile that borders on threatening. It's times like these that Grantaire can see why he and Bahorel get along so well.

Grantaire looks up at the sky, changing the subject. "The moon's getting even closer to the town."

"It _does_ look even bigger now." Jehan frowns.

"If it falls on the town…" Grantaire rubs his chin. "The shockwave isn't going to be good for anyone nearby. Are you sure we should be going _towards_ it?"

"We'll leave once everyone's together," Bahorel tells him. "Now stop making excuses. If you didn't want to go back to town, you wouldn't even be here with us and we all know it."

Grantaire nods, conceding the point. They're almost at the gate to the town, already damp with light rain, and as Grantaire walks through, there's a strange sense of deja vu that makes him pause. 

Walking back into town feels like something he's already done several times over and it's unsettling. He hasn't been anywhere near the southern gate for over a year but he can't help the fact that there's something tugging at his memory, insisting that he's only just been here.

"Are you okay?" Jehan asks, and touches his shoulder. "You don't have to see him until you want to."

"Yeah." Grantaire shakes his head. "Sure. He's probably at work anyway."

Bahorel is frowning at him, but Grantaire shrugs and keeps walking, into the rain, into the town. 

They end up going to the Curiosity Shop because there's hardly ever anybody in there. Courfeyrac makes his money through quiet and anonymous transactions on the side, rather than through walk-in traffic. It means that he loves having visitors, and the lack of customers allows him to keep odd hours and visit others during the day.

Luckily for them, the shop's open and he's in. He looks like he's been expecting them, which doesn't surprise Grantaire at all. If he had to pick one person to tell Bahorel and Jehan where to find him, it would be Courfeyrac. 

"You're back!" Courfeyrac cries, beaming at all of them. "How's the Southern Swamp?"

"Fascinating as always," Jehan replies cheerfully. "I think I found carnivorous flowers."

"Not to mention violent bushes," Bahorel mutters. "You should've seen the swamp yesterday. It was almost as if it was trying to kill anything that disturbed it."

"There was a boy that came by yesterday," Jehan says. His brows furrow. "A boy? I'm sure it was. I hope he's okay."

"That wasn't yesterday," Bahorel frowns. "Pretty sure that was a few days ago."

"Saw him over here just the other day too," Courfeyrac adds. "Busy kid."

"Wait, how long has he been here?" Grantaire scratches his head. "I heard he was new to town yesterday."

The four of them stare at each other, confused, and Grantaire can feel a headache starting to form at the back of his mind. He'd still prefer dealing with that over the way Courfeyrac looks at him and says, "So, are you actually going to talk to Enjolras this time?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I spoke to him before."

"You were asleep for most of the time he was there."

"Wait," Bahorel interrupts. "Enjolras watched him sleep?"

"It wasn't like that!" Courfeyrac exclaims. "Okay, it was a little like that—"

"I'd just walked back to town from fucking Ikana," Grantaire interrupts. "I was exhausted. He had a lunch break, and took some work with him and—I guess…"

"Yes…?" Courfeyrac asks expectantly.

"…I guess he wanted to talk, because he waited until I woke up."

Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow. "And did you talk?"

"Briefly. Barely." Grantaire covers his face with his hands. "Fuck. Two years and the best thing I could manage was _I'll stay out of your way_."

"I hope you can appreciate," Courfeyrac says conversationally, "just how good of a friend I am for not punching you out right now."

"You've probably been wanting to for a good two years now," Grantaire mutters.

" _No_." Courfeyrac pinches the bridge of his nose. "So close, but so far. Grantaire, everyone's spent the last two years hoping you'd come home and do you know who is right at the top of that list? I'll give you three guesses."

"I'm an idiot," Grantaire says miserably.

"That makes the pair of you," Courfeyrac tells him. "Talk to him. Please. There are people on the streets counting down the hours to the end of the world. Now is really not the time to be avoiding anyone you care about."

"Yeah." Grantaire sighs. "I guess not."

Jehan smiles, looking relieved, and Bahorel bumps their shoulders together. Courfeyrac looks like he's doing everything in his power to keep from launching himself over the counter and tackling Grantaire into a hug. It isn't the first time he's had the thought—especially not in the past two years—but Grantaire is stuck by just how much he loves his friends.

«·»

Enjolras is nearly done with the mountain of paperwork he'd taken from Valjean and there's a strong sense of accomplishment he gets from watching it dwindle into nothing more than a small, tidy stack. He's almost done with it when there's a quiet knock on his door.

"Not now," Enjolras calls out. "I'm too busy."

"Oh. Okay." It's Grantaire. Enjolras nearly knocks over the pile of completed work as he rushes to the door.

"Grantaire."

"Hi. Sorry, I know you're busy—"

"He's not all that busy," Valjean speaks up from the doorway of his office. "You're nearly done with your work, aren't you?"

Enjolras nods slowly. "Yes, but…"

"I'll finish the rest. You were doing it on my behalf anyway. Take the afternoon off."

Enjolras looks to Grantaire, who looks incredibly nervous. He turns back to Valjean. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Valjean makes a shooing motion at them, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. "Half day tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

Grantaire is waiting by the door and Enjolras joins him, walking outside. For a moment, they stand in front of the building, watching each other. Then Grantaire clears his throat.

"I missed you too, by the way. Every single day since I left."

"Why didn't you come back?" Enjolras asks. He could ask why Grantaire left in the first place but he's been asking himself the same question for a long time now. The memories of their arguments, each louder and fiercer than the last, had come back to haunt Enjolras throughout the day as he tried to work.

"I didn't think you wanted me to." Grantaire sighs quietly. "I guess I know better now. I'm sorry."

"So am I." Enjolras gives Grantaire a warm smile. "I'm so glad you've come back."

"Yeah." Grantaire's smile matches his. "Me too."

They walk through town while Enjolras talks about the Carnival preparations and the way Marius is running all over the place, trying to cater to the guests staying at the Inn and tying all loose ends for his wedding.

"It's lucky for him that Cosette knows exactly what she wants," Enjolras comments. "She's already organised most of it. Just as well, because I haven't seen her for the past few days. Marius seems to know what's going on, at least, so I'm not too concerned."

"They'll work it out. They always do."

They walk towards South Clocktown and Grantaire slows down so he can look up at the moon. It seems as if it's staring down at them and Grantaire doesn't realise that he's stopped walking until Enjolras' shoulder brushes against his.

"I really hope it doesn't actually fall," Enjolras mutters. "It's going to crush the clocktower, and it will be such a shame."

"You mean, along with destroying _everything else_ too." Grantaire nudges Enjolras with an elbow. "Besides, didn't you threaten to blow the clocktower up once, when we were fourteen? You were protesting something—I can't even remember what, but I remember that it was the last straw for Javert, before he declared you his nemesis."

"It was the treatment of Gorons," Enjolras remembers. "Other races in general, really, but I remember thinking that the Gorons wouldn't be hurt by the bombs. Not that I was _going_ to do it. I just wanted to make sure people were paying attention."

"Well, you definitely managed that." Grantaire snorts. "I remember thinking, _fuck, he's so messed up, I want to kiss him_."

Enjolras should probably be more concerned than pleased. When he brushes his hand against Grantaire's, their fingers interlock with each other. 

"Well, now it's _my_ clocktower and I can't stand the thought of anything bad happening to it."

"Do you get a sense of ownership over everything you threaten to destroy?" Grantaire asks, smirking. "Is that why we started dating after we nearly got in that massive punch-up?"

Enjolras' eyes widen in horror. " _No_ , of course not—you're teasing me, aren't you?"

Grantaire laughs at him, squeezing his hand. "You're still taking things way too seriously, I see."

"I just don't want to say the wrong thing and drive you away again," Enjolras admits in a small voice. "I want you to stay, Grantaire. I mean, we'll have to evacuate town tomorrow just in case the moon falls and if you want to leave then, I won't blame you at all, but—"

Grantaire cuts him off with a kiss. It's nothing more than the simple press of their lips together, but he doesn't move away. He waits, and Enjolras responds by wrapping his arms around Grantaire and kissing back. Enjolras thinks he hears a quickly-muffled whoop that sounds suspiciously like Courfeyrac, but he can't even spare a thought for that when he's tasting Grantaire's mouth for the first time in two years. He's certain that they're pushing the boundaries of public decency, but Grantaire's hands are in his hair, Grantaire's tongue is in his mouth, and it's difficult to care about anything else.

"I love you," Grantaire murmurs as he pulls away. "Just as you are. I love arguing with you, I love making up with you, I love the fact that sometimes you're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen and sometimes you're fucked up enough to blow things up to make people listen—"

"—I _threatened_ to—"

"No, no, I remember you setting off a couple of bombs where they wouldn't do any damage. To make a point."

"Well, this is what happens when you sell bombs to children."

"Or Blast Masks."

Enjolras grip on Grantaire becomes tighter, with a mix of anger and possessiveness. "We are not going to talk about your old Blast Mask. Ever again."

"Okay." Grantaire ducks his head. "Sorry."

"If we all survive past this," Enjolras mutters, "I am making certain that no shops in Clocktown sell weapons to children."

"Look at you," Grantaire says fondly. "Always thinking of how you can make the world a better place."

"You don't think we'll survive." It's not a question, and Enjolras is not surprised. "Are you going to leave tomorrow, then?"

"Look at the moon, Enjolras. If it falls, there's nowhere to run. The damage is going to affect all of Termina. There's no point trying to escape it and I know you're going to stay here, so I'm staying right here with you. If you'll let me."

"Of course." Enjolras pulls him into another kiss. "Of course, Grantaire."

"Enjolras! Grantaire!" Courfeyrac calls out, from the other end of the street. "What a coincidence!"

"I'm sure it is," Grantaire mutters, so only he and Enjolras can hear. Enjolras smirks, holding one of Grantaire's hands in his own as they both turn around. 

Courfeyrac is walking towards them, while Combeferre, Jehan and Bahorel follow behind. The wide grin on his face confirms Enjolras' suspicions that he's been spying on them. 

"We're all catching up at the Milk Bar tonight. Musichetta's letting us in before they actually open for the night. As a welcome back thing for R."

"I love Musichetta," Grantaire sighs. He quickly amends. "Not _love_. I don't want to be killed by three different people. You know what I mean."

"I do," Enjolras says with a smile, tightening his grip on Grantaire's hand. "Come on."

«·»

"Did you really work in the stage crew for the Indigo-Go's last year?" Courfeyrac asks Grantaire, the jealousy evident in his tone. "Oh man, that is so cool. What are they like? What's _Lulu_ like?"

"Very lovely," Grantaire replies with a grin. "Also very taken."

"Oh well." Courfeyrac doesn't seem particularly bothered by this. He leans over to pour himself a drink, because Musichetta is preoccupied, making out with Joly and Bossuet on the floor behind the bar.

Enjolras hasn't left Grantaire's side, or let go of his hand even once. Grantaire doesn't mind at all. He talks to everyone else—even Feuilly has taken time out of his delivery schedule to drop by—but Grantaire can't help the fact that he keeps getting distracted by Enjolras. He doesn't even know how long he spends with his head resting on Enjolras' shoulder, but none of their friends really blame them.

The bar opens for the public at ten, and it's not long after that Enjolras suggests that they leave. Grantaire picks his rucksack up from where he'd left it at the Curiosity Shop and lets Enjolras lead the way home. 

It's a simple, two-bedroom place in East Clocktown that they'd bought together as soon as they could afford to. It's close to the Mayor's Office because even if Enjolras hadn't been working there when they'd bought the house, it had been his aim ever since Valjean was voted in. He knew that Valjean listened to people and wanted to make the town a better place, and that had been when the Bombers—as they'd come to be known after the clocktower incident—began to settle down. 

Grantaire gets the same strange sense of deja vu at the door—it's been there all evening, really—but he doesn't dwell on it when Enjolras is kissing him and shutting the door behind them. Grantaire shrugs his rucksack off and leaves it against the wall as Enjolras turns the lights on. The sight that greets Grantaire makes him pause.

The walls are covered with his paintings. Each and every painting that Grantaire had done over the past two years and sent off to Courfeyrac is here, from the Goron Races in Snowhead to the portrait of Mikau of the Indigo-Go's, detailing his tattoos. They're all here, like postcards that Grantaire was never brave enough to send, and Enjolras catches him staring, following his gaze to the wall.

"Oh. I forgot that you didn't know."

"No I didn't." Grantaire shakes his head slowly. "Explains why Courfeyrac would never tell me who bought the paintings, though."

Enjolras smiles sheepishly. "I asked him not to. I wanted to have… I don't know. I wanted proof that you were out there somewhere. I realise that it must looks as if I was keeping tabs on you and where you'd been, but that wasn't my intention at all, I just—"

"I get it," Grantaire tells him. "Trust me, I get it. Look—I have a present for you."

Enjolras watches curiously as Grantaire opens his rucksack and digs through it, pulling out a package wrapped in thick cloth. 

"A Moon's Tear," Enjolras breathes as Grantaire pulls the cloth away. Even in the lit room, the rock glows a bright blue.

"I know you've always wanted to find one. I found this one a year ago." Grantaire hands it over to Enjolras. "I was lying awake one night and saw it fall, so I went looking for it. For you. I held onto it since then, because I always meant to come back and give it to you."

Enjolras puts the Moon's Tear down on the table and pulls Grantaire into a deep kiss. "I love you."

Grantaire smiles, his arms around Enjolras' waist. "Love you too."

"I'm taking you to bed now, if that's okay."

"Very much so," Grantaire murmurs, letting Enjolras walk them to the bedroom. 

They undress each other as they go, until they're both down to nothing but their boxers and Enjolras is pushing Grantaire down onto their bed.

"I haven't had any sex in two years," Grantaire mutters. "This is going to be embarrassingly quick."

"Neither have I," Enjolras points out, kneeling over him. "I don't think I'll be in any position to judge."

Grantaire grins at that. Enjolras shifts forward so that he's straddling Grantaire properly and bends down, kissing him as they rock their hips together.

"I'm really torn," Grantaire murmurs against Enjolras' lips, "between just wanting to make you come, and wanting to make this last as long as we can."

"What gives you the impression that we're only coming once tonight?" Enjolras asks and grinds against Grantaire a little harder. Grantaire moans into Enjolras' mouth and they kiss messily until they can't do anything but pant in unison, tugging their boxers down to wrap their hands around each other's cocks.

" _Oh_." The first touch of Grantaire's hand has Enjolras' hips jerking, his eyes widening. "Oh, oh, Grantaire."

"Yeah, come on." Grantaire's missed this, and if he had any thoughts to spare right now, he's hate himself for staying away this long. "Come for me, come on, please—fuck, Enjolras, _please_."

They both moan as they come, pulling each other close with their free hands. They rest their foreheads against each other as they regain their breath and when they pull apart, Enjolras is smiling.

"Look at you," Grantaire mutters, unable to hold back his own smile. He gets out of bed to grab a towel and wipes them both clean. "You look so _content_."

"I like orgasms better when you're directly involved," Enjolras says, unabashed. "Much better than jerking off and trying to imagine you wherever your last painting came from."

"Or trying to imagine you there with me," Grantaire admits quietly. He kisses Enjolras' forehead. "I'm sorry I stayed away."

"I'm sorry I made you leave," Enjolras replies. He takes Grantaire's hand into his own and kisses it. "At least you're back now."

They settle in each other's arms, heads resting together on one pillow. There have been numerous beds that Grantaire has slept in over the past two years, but nothing beats being here with Enjolras, their breathing falling into sync as they drift off to sleep.

Grantaire wakes sometime in the middle of the night to Enjolras stroking him slowly under their blanket. It's not as rushed this time and they take turns going down on each other, hands clamped over their mouths so they don't wake the neighbours. Grantaire bites his lip so hard that it bleeds and Enjolras sucks on it, making Grantaire hiss with a mix of pleasure and pain. This time, when they fall asleep in each other's arms, they don't wake until just before dawn.

It's not the cucco crow that rouses them, but the earth tremors. Grantaire sits up in bed and looks to his side. Enjolras' eyes are open, and Grantaire recognises the fear in them.

"That's the moon, isn't it?" Enjolras asks quietly, as Grantaire lies back down beside him. "That's the moon falling."

"Yeah." Grantaire kisses Enjolras' shoulder. "I think so."

They lie in silence, until Enjolras clears his throat. "Did you come back here just so you could die with me?"

"I came back because I woke up one morning and suddenly, the moon was a lot closer than it should be, and I wanted to see everyone. Especially you. I wasn't sure if the world was going to end, but I figured I'd been away for long enough."

Enjolras takes hold of Grantaire's hand, squeezing it tightly. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to for Grantaire to know he's afraid.

"Do you think Valjean will understand if I refuse to leave your side for your half day of work?" Grantaire asks, keeping his tone light.

Enjolras snorts quietly. "He would. Javert's probably going to be hanging around too, though, and I doubt that he'd be happy to see you. He hates you more than he hates me."

"Well, that's because he called you the worst thing to happen to this town, so I retaliated by painting graffiti along the side of his house." Grantaire smirks. "I was pretty proud of that one."

"Everyone loved it and wouldn't let Javert remove it for _months_."

"Well then," Grantaire says, pleased to have gotten a smile out of Enjolras, "I think it's about time I said hi, don't you?"

«·»

Just as Enjolras had expected, Javert is at the Mayor's Office, and the moment he sees Grantaire, his expression darkens.

"There is no reason for you to be here," Javert grumbles at him, folding his arms across his chest.

"Last I checked, you don't work here either." Grantaire gives Valjean's door a pointed look. "I can't help but wonder what you're doing here, Captain Javert."

Javert growls under his breath but before he can say anything, Valjean opens the door to his office. He looks incredibly stressed and Javert immediately goes from being angry and defensive to concerned. He nods at Enjolras in an unspoken truce, placing his hand on Valjean's back and guiding him back into his room.

"Huh." Grantaire raises an eyebrow at the shut door. "Javert can be decent when he wants to be."

"He's always being decent," Enjolras says with a small shrug. "It's just that his version of decency is sometimes very different to ours."

"That… actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think of it."

Enjolras smiles grimly. "Doomsday epiphanies."

"Doomsday? I don't really like the sound of that." Grantaire hums in thought. "…The _Third Day_ sounds too optimistic for my liking."

"The Final Day," Enjolras decides. He takes Grantaire's hand into his. "I am glad that I am spending my final day with you."

Grantaire smiles at him, squeezing his hand and suddenly, Enjolras is thrown into something too clear to be anything but a memory but too surreal to be anything but a dream. He sees himself hand in hand with Grantaire, the entire world shaking around them.

"Enjolras?" Grantaire places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to the present. His brows are drawn together. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Enjolras blinks, focusing on Grantaire's face and the warmth of his touch, letting it ground him. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Grantaire doesn't look the slightest bit convinced, but he simply nods and follows Enjolras into his office. His pulls an extra chair up to the other side of the desk and settles into it with his sketchbook.

"I won't bother you while you work," Grantaire tells him, pulling a pencil out and flipping his book open. "But, you know. If you _want_ to be distracted, I am really good at that."

"I know that," Enjolras says with a smile, but then there's another earth tremor and it's incredibly difficult to keep his smile in place.

Grantaire is immediately on his feet, holding Enjolras' face in his hands and kissing him. "Shh, look at me. Don't think about it."

"Do you have your flask on you?" Enjolras asks quietly, ignoring the way Grantaire frowns. "Please. Just a sip."

Grantaire pulls his flask out and hands it over. His frown deepens when Enjolras tips his head back and drinks all of it. "Just a sip?"

"We're getting drunk after this," Enjolras declares, hating the panic creeping into his tone, hating the fact that there is absolutely nothing he can do about this entire situation. "We're getting so blind drunk that we're not even going to realise the world is ending—"

"Enjolras." Grantaire's tone is firm and somewhere at the back of his mind, Enjolras is marvelling at their apparent reversal of roles. He can't expect Grantaire to keep everything together for his sake; it's just not fair.

"I can't do this, Grantaire." Enjolras shakes his head. "I can't just sit here helplessly and wait for the world to end."

Before Grantaire can reply, Javert opens the door of Enjolras' office and looks in. "Take the rest of the day off. Valjean is closing the office for the rest of the day. Go, enjoy what time you have left."

Grantaire is the one to respond, nodding at Javert. "Thank you."

"Get out of town while you can. There's an evacuation towards Ikana this evening. If we get as far away from the town as possible…"

Enjolras expects Grantaire to scoff at the suggestion, or point out how useless it will be. Instead, he simply nods again and waits for Javert to leave.

"Come on," he says to Enjolras, taking his hand. They leave the room and Grantaire doesn't even take his sketchbook on the way out.

"Where are we going?" Enjolras asks, letting Grantaire lead him through town.

"We're finding the others," Grantaire replies. "It's not even ten o'clock in the morning and you've started drinking, Enjolras. Not even I start drinking that early."

Enjolras thinks he sees someone from the corner of his eye—a man with a bag covered in masks, a child dressed in green—but there's nothing actually there when he looks properly. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the world is burning and all he can hear is Grantaire's voice, firm and confident, saying _look at me and nothing else, this is all going to be over soon, I love you so much_.

He has no idea what's going on anymore. Grantaire's grip on his hand tightens.

"I'm sorry. You want to find someone else who can actually deal with me—"

"No, Enjolras. _No_. It's nothing like that."

Grantaire turns around, looking him squarely in the eye. "It's just that if _you're_ going to start drinking this early, you're not doing it alone."

Unsurprisingly, the rest of their friends are similarly distracted and terrified. Musichetta opens the bar for them again, but after Grantaire downs his first bottle, Enjolras notices that he doesn't touch any more. 

"You're unhappy," Enjolras says, sitting down beside him. "I mean, for reasons other than the obvious."

Grantaire rubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. "I'm scared out of my mind, Enjolras, but I don't think I want to be drunk for this. It would be different if this was something we could _avoid_. If we were all marching off to our deaths, you know I'd be too drunk to see straight. But we can't do anything, and if this is our final day, I don't want to waste it."

Enjolras takes Grantaire's hand and brings it to his lips. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to be here with our friends." Grantaire says, then hesitates. "…I don't know what I want. It's not going to matter in a few hours anyway."

The time passes quicker than it should. Feuilly joins them sometime around noon, his postman's hat gone and a look of relief in his eyes. Marius is there too, sitting with Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

The tension in the air only grows thicker as night falls. The evacuation begins, but none of them leave. Enjolras notices a strange, faraway look in his friends' eyes that he suspects he might understand, even if he can't explain why.

It's Grantaire who finally speaks up. "I feel like we've done this before. Which is fucked up, right, because how many times can you experience the end of the world?"

"A lot," Jehan replies quietly. He's leaning into Bahorel's side, with their arms around each other. "More times than I can count. I'm always with Bahorel."

"And I'm always with you," Enjolras adds, looking at Grantaire.

The others speak up, adding their own experiences, and they still might not know _why_ it's happening but at least Enjolras no longer feels like he's losing his mind.

The bar opens to the public at ten o'clock as usual. It's not at all surprising that most people who have chosen to stay in town come to join them and drink. The entire place is quiet, save for murmured conversations, and Enjolras is thankful for the occasional crash as Bossuet helps out behind the bar, because at least that brings a change to the despair hanging over everyone's heads.

Enjolras doesn't waste time wondering how they're going to die when he somehow already has the memories. Almost as if they're stuck in some sort of loop, bound to repeat itself over and over—

" _…Grantaire_!" 

"What is it?" Grantaire asks, looking up.

Before Enjolras can say anything, the earth tremors start up again and this time, they don't stop.

"Everybody out," Musichetta shouts, pointing at the door. It's nearly midnight and the moon is terrifyingly close.

"Hey, it's that kid—" Bahorel says, turning around and following the boy in green, to South Clocktown. The others follow.

Enjolras doesn't quite know how to make sense of what he sees next. He recognises the boy, from all the times he's seen him around town over the last three days. He recognises the forest child too; he's been in the town for longer, though the sinister mask he is wearing is recent. He cannot hear what they are saying to each other, but as Enjolras watches, he realises that it's not the forest creature responsible for all of this, but the spirit of the mask. 

Grantaire is at his side. They haven't let go of each other once and they're holding hands so tightly that it hurts. Enjolras stops trying to make sense of things that are entirely beyond him. He has Grantaire. He has all of their friends around them. They're all together, and the end of the world, and nothing else matters.

«·»

Grantaire doesn't know how to explain the apocalypse that never happened. Nobody else doesn't either; Grantaire still doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. He's still struggling to get his head around the fact that they're all alive, and that the Giants of the South, North, East and West are more than just legends.

They'd appeared from their respective corners of the world, responding to some ancient call, and they're the reason the world hasn't been destroyed by the impact of the moon. They'd held the moon up over Clocktown, their legs trembling from the effort. They're the ones who put the moon back into the sky once everything was over.

The mysterious boy in green is gone, just as he'd arrived but Grantaire knows that without him, they would all be dead. He doesn't know what happened and he suspects that he never will, but they're alive, the moon is back where it belongs, and that's all Grantaire can ask for.

The Carnival of Time is more successful than any previous year. Everyone is celebrating the fact that they are alive and it runs without a hitch thanks to Enjolras making sure that everything was organised properly. Grantaire makes a point to let people know this fact, and catches the small, pleased smile that Enjolras tries to hide.

The Carnival ends with Marius and Cosette's wedding. Grantaire hears that Cosette's disappearance had also been related to the evil spirit residing in the mask and Grantaire doesn't question it, just stands in the crowd and watches.

Marius is wearing the Sun Mask he'd made, as per tradition, and Cosette's corresponding Moon Mask is stunningly beautiful, but it's nothing compared to her smile when she pulls it away from her face. They exchange vows and kiss, and Grantaire smiles when when Enjolras silently takes his hand.

"So what are we calling today?" he asks Enjolras when they get home in the late afternoon, tired from a long day of celebrating. There are still stalls open and the festivities are continuing, but Valjean has taken over, looking much happier than he did yesterday.

Enjolras hums in thought as he leads Grantaire to bed. They're both exhausted, and make the unspoken decision to lie in bed for a while. Resting his head on Grantaire's chest, he finally says, "A New Day, I think."

"I like it." Grantaire runs his fingers through Enjolras' hair and takes a deep breath. "So… I realise that after the last three days, moon imagery probably isn't such a great idea, but…"

"Grantaire?" Enjolras asks, looking at him.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be for the next Carnival of Time, it can be whenever you want, but you know how it's meant to be _extra special_ if it's the day of the Carnival." Grantaire knows he's rambling, but he can't quite make himself stop. "I'll make the Moon Mask because let's face it, you're the sun. You're the sun and I'm… well, hopefully I'm not _that_ moon, but—"

" _Grantaire_ ," Enjolras says firmly this time. "You spent two years away from home, you came back four days ago, and you're proposing to me?"

"This isn't how I planned it," Grantaire mutters. "I was going to use the Moon's Tear. And a painting. I planned it out months ago. I was also going to wait longer than four days after I came back… but then I chickened out and put it all off, but then the moon happened."

"And then you came home and I don't care that I spent the majority of the last three days scared out of my mind. I wouldn't change that for anything because you're _home_." Enjolras wets his lips, and there's a nervous look in his eyes. "I know what you want to ask and you know my answer. So _ask me_ , Grantaire."

Grantaire smiles at that, pulling Enjolras into his arms. "Marry me. In a year. Tomorrow. Any time you want. Just, marry me?"

"I have one condition," Enjolras replies, and Grantaire's heart sinks. "No, it's nothing bad, I promise. Don't give me that look. It's just that next time you leave town, you take me with you."

"Oh." Grantaire smiles, pressing a kiss to Enjolras' lips. "Yeah. I could do that. I kind of like the thought of travelling with you."

"And I," Enjolras replies, kissing Grantaire back, "really like the thought of being married to you."

They rest their foreheads against each other and it might have taken them a lot to get here, but as far as Grantaire is concerned, it was all completely worth it.


End file.
